“It was a black man in open, conscious resistance of the power that was trying to keep him enslaved—that was me…At last I had a chance to say what I believed in my deepest heart about politics, slavery, and about the genocide of Indians.”—Eugene McDaniels a/k/a the left rev mc d. talking about his album, Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse, Pitch Magazine 2002
The Nixon administration tanked the album, Questlove called him a genius, Prince put his music on his Paisley Park party playlist, Aloe Blacc compared him to Gil-Scott Heron and Marvin Gaye, but, as he said, “the lyrics are 10 times more potent”, Beastie Boys, A Tribe Called Quest, Pete Rock, Gravediggaz, Busta Rhymes and De La Soul, among others, sampled tracks from this album, yet most people have never heard of this psychedelic soul jazz underground cult classic or of Eugene McDaniels himself.
Now, 50 years after its release, Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse makes a timely and triumphant return in a special anniversary edition curated by Eugene’s widow, Karen McDaniels. Inside the newly-created gatefold jacket are artwork from Eugene’s private collection and unseen writings, while a 4-page insert features handwritten lyrics, the original lyric sheet, quotes from such admirers as Vernon Reid, Adrian Younge, Chicano Batman, and Alphonse Mouzon (who played on the record along with his Weather Report band-mate Miroslav Vitous), the original lyric sheet, and new liner notes by Mark Anthony Neal, Professor of African and African American Studies, Duke University, Author, and host of Left of Blackpodcast. Neal’s essay gets to the heart of Headless Heroes: “Years after its release, Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse remains one of the most blatantly political musical tomes ever released commercially by a major label. The album contained critiques of blue-eyed soul (“Jagger the Dagger”), examined the phenomenon of “shopping while black” (“Supermarket Blues”)—years before “racial profiling” entered into the national lexicon—and the futility of race hatred (“Headless Heroes”). “The Parasite” was McDaniels’ most stinging critique though, as he gets at the root of American Imperialism and its relationship to the genocide of America’s native populations.”
Real Gone Music’s deluxe, 50th anniversary release of Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse is limited to 1750 copies pressed in purple vinyl, and cut from the original LP master. It’s an album whose relevance—and prescience—reverberate ever more loudly. To quote the title track: “Better get it together, Better get it together, And see what's happening, To you and you and you”
Any thought that this album is a novelty relic wears off, though, when you realize how sincere and frequently great it is. Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse has been a lost vinyl classic since it came out thirty years ago, and this reissue has been trickling into record stores since sometime last year. The record is an eclectic mix of soul, funk, and even folk, with a crack jazz band backing McDaniels-- a jazz singer himself in the 60s, and a hit songwriter and producer in the 70s. It's attracted less attention and support than the reissue of Shuggie Otis' Inspiration Information, but it has its own legend: allegedly, it went out of print because Spiro Agnew himself called Atlantic Records to complain about the content, and Atlantic stopped promoting the album.
This is hard to believe-- Agnew should have had bigger problems than bullying artists, but more importantly, McDaniels' lyrics actually sound more concerned than angry. He rages against injustice but he's more interested in hope: even as God prepares for Judgment Day, McDaniels reminds us, "His smile is warm and soothing/ As the morning light." Rather than targeting anyone to hate, McDaniels tries to protect us and warn us, as on the title track: he pleads with warring sides-- "Jews and the Arabs," "Left wing and right wing," "Niggahs and crackers"-- to get them to see that they're pawns: "We are the cannon fodder." The earnest cry of the chorus, "Better get it together and see what's happening," emerges from a real love. On the gorgeous ballad "Freedom Death Dance" he chides us for looking away: "Everyone wants piece of mind/ Everybody says we should ignore/ The graves we dance upon." McDaniels' smooth tenor, while technically not one of the best, is direct and empathetic-- he's a preacher, a favorite uncle and the off-the-wall guy sitting next to you at the bar.
Which is why McDaniels comes across not as an extremist or as some kind of character, but as a pretty reasonable guy. He sings about war, but he also sings an acoustic folk song, "Susan Jane," about getting it on with a rich, crazy hippie girl; and there's "Supermarket Blues," which recounts how he got in a racially motivated fight over a can of peas. The late-60s/early-70s era also informs "Lovin' Man," a song about an extremely mortal Jesus-- a "sensuality seeker" whose message of spiritual and physical love could get him in trouble with "the pigs." Yet the album doesn't really sound dated until the last track, "The Parasite (for Buffy)" (Sainte-Marie?), a ten-minute tribute to the Native Americans that ends abruptly in a freak-out: McDaniels starts to scream with horror at their plight and the band jumps to frantic noise. The clamor may be abrupt to modern ears, but as always, his heart is in it.
McDaniels at the Angela Davis benefit concert in Washington, DC
As great as the lyrics are, Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse's resurgence can be credited to the terrific music. The album has been prized and sampled by the hip-hop community for years: that "get it together" line should be familiar to most of you (from the Beastie Boys' Ill Communication, if nothing else) and "Freedom Death Dance" shows up on the first A Tribe Called Quest album. McDaniels taps some great musicians: the rhythm section includes Gary King (Idris Muhammad, George Benson) on electric bass, plus Weather Report members Miroslav Vitous on upright and Alphonse Mouzon on drums. Mouzon particularly stands out, with crisp drumwork that's seamlessly integrated but breaks out all over the place. The band can play it smooth on the slower "Jagger the Dagger" or "Freedom Death Dance," or lift "Headless Heroes" on Richie Resnikoff's guitar and Harry Dhitaker's electric piano.
The album sounds so ebullient, you almost forget that McDaniels' message of love comes wrapped around the evils of racism, ethnic conflict and the bomb-- and it's that shout at the end of "The Parasite" that knocks you awake again, and summons up that wrath he was warning about earlier. All the problems McDaniels sings about are still going on, and what was that about Judgment Day coming soon? Is Spiro Agnew dead yet? Maybe it's not too late to save him.
When Headless Heroes of the Apocalypse was first released in 1971, so the legend goes, Spiro Agnew himself called Atlantic Records to complain about the album's incendiary lyrics. Promotional efforts dried up, and since then, the album has become one of the great rare gems of the funk era. With this first-ever CD release from Label M, it is available again in all its strange, eclectic glory. McDaniels had earned his living as a producer and songwriter for artists like Roberta Flack and Gladys Knight, and was in all honesty not much of a singer, but somehow his clumsy lyrics and dry delivery combined to carry his message across. In an unthreatening manner that hardly warranted a call from the White House, McDaniels warns that man's struggles against each other are pointless, as some dark sinister force controls us all ("Headless Heroes"), and that protest without action is futile ("no amount of dancing is going to make us free," he sings in "Freedom Death Dance"). With a dry wit he recounts an episode of everyday racist brutality in "Supermarket Blues," and finds simple carnal pleasures in the acoustic folk-flavored "Susan Jane." It all gets wrapped up in an appealing stew that draws from rock, funk, folk, soul, and even free jazz. Considering the number of times McDaniels' sinewy beats and chunky guitar riffs have been sampled over the years, it's about time a proper re-release allowed listeners to hear the whole picture.
